The sun was blinding on the porch and I squinted to let my eyes adjust. Anthony was still standing by the car as instructed and I wondered why Palumbo had not brought his real goon into the meeting. Perhaps he felt I was less threatening than the hulky and brooding Anthony.
“Let’s go,” Palumbo said. “These assholes have no stinkin’ idea what they’re doing.”
On the way back to Grayton, Willie Palumbo tried to explain the business proposition he had offered the man we had just visited. Apparently, Georgie was a major distributor of spirits across the Panhandle of Florida. He had his own connections and collection of suppliers, both bootleggers of booze from offshore, as well as the moonshiners that provided local product. Palumbo was convinced he could set up his own distribution and bring a better level of service and pricing to the communities along the Gulf.
“Coulter,” Palumbo started, as we drove back along the beach road, “we should talk with your old man about taking over this whole damn area. In six months we could own this business and small-timers like Georgie back there would be out on their asses.”
With the mention of my father all my senses exploded in a defensive reaction that was apparent to Palumbo.
“You’re not part of the business up there in Georgia are you son?” he asked.
“I’ve tried to keep my distance,” I replied, and then thought about how unwise it had been to spend any more time with this man, let alone tell him that Samuel Coulter was my father.
“Why in hell are you down here in the middle of nowhere?” he asked. “You need to be straight with me, boy.”
I thought about his question for a moment and then realized what more harm could be done with being honest about my situation. In a way there was an attractive sense of reprieve in confiding with someone about what had happened over the past few days.
I told him the story of my father and our meeting with one of his distributors, including the assault I had witnessed. Then I went through the sequence of events with Hanna and my intended betrothal before my brother’s duplicity, stealing her away and sleeping with her.
Palumbo listened with what appeared to be earnest attention. When I finished my story, he said, “First of all, about your father. This is a very tough business and it’s not for the faint of heart. You have to protect your interests and if you let one jerk run over you, every other asshole thinks they can get away with something.”
“I understand all that,” I answered. “I just don’t choose to be part of it.”
“It’s a very lucrative business, Coulter. I’m sure you’re aware of that and I’m sure your family lives quite well,” he said.
“I don’t care about the money.”
He seemed flustered with my comment. “Now that’s the first ignorant thing I’ve heard you say.” He leaned forward and spoke to Anthony. “Did you hear that? He doesn’t care about the money.”
Anthony did little to respond, only looking back for a moment in the rearview mirror. Palumbo turned back to me. “Let me tell you something. You can get by in this life and take what comes along or you can go out and take what you’re really due and enjoy all that life has to offer.”
My anger was rising steadily with this little lecture and I finally said, “So here you are stuck in a little hotel in the middle of nowhere, hiding from the law and people who want to slit your throat. Some life, Palumbo.”
The big man stared back at me for a few moments and then said, “Listen kid, I’ve led a great life and the years ahead will be just fine, too. Right now, there’s a little trouble back home. You have to expect a few problems now and then, but men deal with these things. And speaking of being a man, what the hell were you thinking letting your brother get away with banging your girl?”
I started to protest but he continued on.
“You should have kicked his ass all the way down Peachtree Street and then back again. You can’t let people take advantage of you like that and I don’t care if he’s family. And the girl, you’re damn better off without her.”
Now I was really angry, but then again, I knew he was right. “Palumbo,” I finally said in frustration, “you have no idea about my life. I’m sorry I said anything.”
He seemed to take that as the end of the discussion and looked away at the passing scenery. He didn’t speak again until Anthony pulled the car up in front of the Headley cottage back in Grayton Beach. As I got out he said, “Kid, if I was you I’d get my ass back to Atlanta fast and deal with all of this. You stay down here and keep running away from these things it’s only gonna eat at you.”
I didn’t answer, closing the door of the car and walking through the gate up to the house. I heard the car pull away behind me and Palumbo’s words echoed again in my mind.
Chapter Twelve
There was a basket of food on my porch when I returned, a sandwich and some fruit and a note from Lila Dalton to join them again for dinner that night at the hotel. I realized how hungry I was and I sat down on the porch and started in on the meal. Grayton Beach in the late afternoon was quiet, everyone apparently taking a break before the evening’s meals and activities. The wind had settled some since morning and the surf had calmed.
My mockingbird friend returned and landed on the porch rail. I took a small piece of bread and held it out for him. “How’s your day going, Champ?” I asked. The little bird jumped back and put the bread down on the railing so he could start pecking away at it. I watched as the bird finished and then let out a shrieking “thank you” sound before jumping around, obviously waiting for more. I threw the rest of the slice of bread down on the deck and walked inside to leave my little friend to his meal.
I sat down in one of the big leather chairs in the main room and considered Lila Dalton’s invitation. Knowing that Willie Palumbo and Louise would probably be there again, I had little interest in continuing to be lectured by the big thug. I reconsidered his suggestion about going home and dealing with my father and with my brother Jess. It had only been two days, but Palumbo was right; the whole situation was eating at me and there was no hope in sight the feelings would fade. My spinelessness in not confronting Jess that night at Hanna’s house was the hardest matter to deal with. It wasn’t just eating at me as Palumbo had suggested, it was burning a damn hole in my gut and the ache was building every minute I let myself think about it. I wondered then about what my family must be thinking about my disappearance. My sister and mother would have no idea about what had happened that night and why I had suddenly been compelled to get away. They were probably both genuinely upset about my vanishing overnight. Certainly, my father and brother would have some notion about why I had left, but what did they really think about all of this? My father was probably disgusted with my inability to deal with the realities of the family business and he could go straight to hell with his damn business for all I cared at that point.
Jess was another issue. I’m sure my father had shared at least some of the details about what had happened with their man down in the woods behind the party and my sudden departure. But he wouldn’t know I had seen him with Hanna on the porch that night after the party. The image of the two of them together, kissing and laughing in the open door, infuriated me all over again. It would have been so easy to jump out from the bushes and have it out with both of them right then, but I had been frozen in hiding with my own shame and humiliation. I remembered Palumbo’s comment about being a man about all this and I knew he was right.
And what of Hanna and was she expecting me to call? What was really going on in her mind? Did she have any feelings for me at all? Was she with Jess again right at that moment, making love again and laughing about the little brother who had just run away? They can all go straight to hell, I thought and got up from the chair and walked into the kitchen. I reached for one of the jars of liquor on the shelf, but thought better of it, remembering the effects I had endured all day from last night’s drinking. That surely wasn’t the answer and I thought
instead about my mother and sister and knew then I had to get word to them I was all right.
I had noticed a phone in the front room of Lila’s hotel and decided I should try to place a call to Atlanta. I walked out of the house and down the street, thinking about what I would say if I was able to get through to either of them. And what if Jess or my father answered? More likely it would be our servant, Velma Harold, who would pick up the phone.
I walked up the front steps to the porch of the hotel and Melanee Dalton greeted me there, opening the door.
“Hello Mathew,” she said. “Are you coming for dinner? You’re a little early.”
I was astounded again by the little blind girl’s prescience. I walked into the front gathering room and she closed the door behind us.
“Melanee, how are you today?” I finally responded.
“I’m wonderful, Mathew,” she said, and I was lifted some by her bright spirit. “It really is much too early for dinner.”
“Yes I know,” I answered. “I thought I might ask if I could use your phone.” Lila came into the room from the back.
“Well hello, Mathew,” she said in surprise.
I thanked her for the basket of food and asked again about the phone.
“Of course, it’s right over there. Who are you calling?” she asked.
I explained I needed to call my home in Atlanta.
“Let me connect you with the operator over in Panama City and see if she can make the connection for you.”
After a few minutes of effort, she handed the earpiece to me. I stepped up to the phone and gave the operator the number in Atlanta. Lila took Melanee into the back room to give me some privacy. Eventually I heard a phone ringing through a scratchy connection and then our housekeeper, Velma, was on the line stating that I had reached the Coulter residence and asking who was calling. Her voice was comforting and reassuring and I realized how much I missed them all. Then I felt ashamed again at letting myself fall prey to such emotions.
“Velma, it’s me, Mathew,” I said.
“Mathew Coulter! Where are you boy? You’ve got this family tied up in knots with worry,” she scolded.
“I’m okay, Velma. I just needed to get away for a few days.”
“It would have been nice if you had let some of us know. Your mother is having a fit over this and she is worried sick.”
“I know, that’s why I’m calling. Is she there? Can I speak with her please?”
“You hold on, Mathew. I’ll go find her,” Velma said, and then I heard the phone receiver being placed on the counter. I was worried the connection would fail as the signal grew more garbled with clicks and hissing and then I heard my mother’s voice on the other end.
“Mathew, are you really okay? I’ve been so worried,” she said and her words made my heart ache for upsetting her so.
“I’m fine, really.”
“Where are you?”
I hesitated for a moment, having anticipated this question, but not really sure I was ready to reveal my whereabouts. “I’ve come down to Florida for a while to take some time to think.”
“Florida? Where are you staying?” she asked.
“I’m at a friend’s place.” I hesitated again. “It’s probably best I don’t say exactly where for a bit.”
“Why on earth not?”
“Have you spoken to father about any of this?” I asked.
“When you didn’t come home the next day after the party I wanted to call the police, but he wouldn’t let me. He told me you would be okay,” she said, and the panic and concern was clear in the tenor of her voice. I had to laugh painfully to myself that my father thought I would be okay over all of this. “Mathew, I’ve been so worried about you. You need to come home.”
“I need a little more time, but I wanted you to know I was all right and you shouldn’t worry.”
“Jess and Maggie have been acting so strangely and I asked them about your friend, the Wesley girl.” Her comment hung there between us like I would be able to somehow finish the incomplete thought. Typical of my mother to refer to her in such a distant and condescending fashion. Certainly, brother Jess had not confided in her on his dalliance with my intended future wife.
“Mathew, are you still there?” she finally asked.
“Yes, mother. And what have any of you heard from Hanna since I’ve been away?” I had to ask.
“I’ve not heard a word and yet your brother and sister have been quite odd about it all.”
“Is Maggie home? Can I talk to her?” I asked.
She hesitated a moment. “Mathew, please tell me what’s happened. You need to come home.”
“I’ll be home as soon as I can. Please don’t worry.”
“Your father is very upset with you,” she admonished.
“Oh, I’m quite sure of that,” I said, and was tempted to tell her to offer him a quick path straight to hell, but I managed to keep the thought to myself. “Can I please speak with Maggie?”
When my sister picked up the phone I had to hold the receiver back from my ear. Her voice came through the weak connection with loud frustration. “Have you lost your mind, Mathew Coulter?” she scolded. I let her go on for a minute with her rebuke. Eventually she began to calm down and then she said, “Mathew, you can’t just disappear like this and think no one will care or worry about you. I know the family has been just horrible about your friend Hanna…”
I had to interrupt. “And what do you know of that?”
“I know they all disapproved and it was wicked of Jess to take her away from the party like that,” she said, and I could hear the sincere regret in the tone of her voice.
Wicked. The word was so appropriate and yet I assumed my sister had no grasp of just how wicked the night had ended. As younger children, both Margaret and Jess often conspired against me in typical fashion for older siblings and yet I was quite certain Jess would not have engaged Maggie in any of his deceit that night with Hanna Wesley.
“Mathew, you need to let us know where you are.” she pleaded.
I had decided earlier I needed to enlist the help of at least one member of my family and Maggie had always been my most trusted ally. There was a time when as a young teen, I had left a new bike in a park to go play somewhere else with friends. When I returned, the bike was gone. I knew my father would be furious about my irresponsible behavior, as he was always trying to instill proper values and conduct; quite humorous to consider when years later he would turn to a life far removed from such. Knowing my brother would immediately run to my parents to reveal my crime, I turned as usual to Maggie for help and redemption. She had told me to keep the loss of the bike between the two of us until she could think through a proper resolution. The next afternoon when I returned home from school, I walked through the garage next to our house to look for something and there was a new replica of the lost bike. Maggie had spent some of her own money down at the bike shop to rescue me. It was a secret we had always kept between us and over the years our alliance grew stronger.
I took her into my confidence again and told her of my journey down to the Panhandle and the Headley’s place in Grayton Beach. While not going into the specifics of the events with our father and brother Jess on the night of the party, I explained to her I needed to stay away for some time and I would be working on the book I had started. I needed her to send money and my typewriter and a few other supplies and clothing. She dutifully made the list without further protest and I was certain from past experience I could trust her to carry out the request with appropriate caution. I left the number and address at the hotel for her to reach me if she had to and before we said our goodbyes she reminded me she loved me and she would do whatever was necessary to help me come back when the time was right.
When I placed the phone back on the hook an overwhelming sadness came over me and I knew it was a combination of loneliness and homesickness. I also knew I would have to overcome such immature notion
s quickly if I was to manage in this remote place. I turned and Melanee was sitting in a chair across the room. I wasn’t sure how long she had been there or what she had heard. She was whimpering and trying to hold back full blown tears. I walked over and sat down next to her and at that moment her grandmother came out from the back.
“Melanee, I know it’s very sad,” Lila said. She held a letter in her hand and bent down to put her arm around the little girl. Then she turned to me and said softly, “Her mother was supposed to come in from New Orleans for a visit next week, but she’s written that she’s ill and won’t be able to make the trip.”
Melanee’s tears came freely now and she placed her head down in her hands. The sobs caused her body to shake in tiny convulsions. Her troubles made my own seem slight in comparison and I too knelt down to offer some comfort.
“Melanee, I’m not sure what’s happened,” I said gently, “but I do know your mother loves you like all mothers do and she’ll be out to see you as soon as she can.”
The little girl tried bravely to sniff back her tears and then was finally able to say, “My mother has been very sick and we’re all so worried about her. I was hoping she would be able to come this time.”
Lila looked over at me and there were tears in the corners of her eyes as well. She just shook her head slowly and then turned and walked away into the back.
Just as my sister had been a source of recent comfort and support for me, I felt I should try to help this little girl cope with her mother’s disappointing news. After speaking for a moment with Lila in the kitchen, I took Melanee by the hand and went out the door. We walked together down the street toward the Headley house. Her familiar cheer and enthusiasm began to return as she told me about how beautiful her mother was and what a wonderful singer she was. It was unbearably sad to think how any mother could possibly abandon such a marvelous and precious little child like this. When we got to the porch I had her sit down on one of the chairs and told her I would be right back. I went inside and grabbed what was left of the bread from my earlier lunch and went back out to sit beside her. Within minutes my bird friend, Champ, had returned and we spent a wonderful time feeding the little beggar, Melanee sightlessly holding out a small piece and laughing out loud when the bird would whisk it away.
Grayton Winds Page 11
